


Wrap your hands around my neck..

by AnotherLoser



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Abusive Relationships, F/M, M/M, Pre-Series, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 11:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8575810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherLoser/pseuds/AnotherLoser
Summary: Most would assume it would be the opposite, but she was the rough one.  She decorates him with cigarette burns and scratches, hickies and even bruises.  She doesn’t ask for what she wants, she takes and honestly, Michael isn’t sure how he feels about it anymore.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Now is probably good time to mention that this is probably the longest one shot I've written and didn't feel like going back to re-read it and check for errors.

Things are different away from home.  Michael was used to certain things; being the buzz kill, doing most of the cleaning, working part time, dealing with Lincoln when he was drunk, hiding from Lincoln’s friends in general because they were all assholes half of the time at least, studying even when his homework was finished, and quiet.  
In college he only had to clean his half of the room, he worked as much as possible to pay for living space and food, there wasn’t any cooking anymore and instead he bought pre-made salads or stole some takeout from his roommate, and most all of his time not in classes or at work was spent studying.  It was the start to four years of nothing but work, but if it pays off and gets him a career then so be it. For the most part he likes work, likes studying and learning and burying his head in studies rather than life.

Michael’s biggest problem might be that his roommate is definitely not Lincoln.  While his brother may be a mess, he still showed that he cared, he knew how to read what Michael needed and was willing to give it, and he was responsible enough to hold a job for a little while at least.  He did what he had to do to get them by, and to take care of his brother when he knew how to.  
Nick, his roommate, was not Lincoln at all.  
For one, he had little work ethic.  He doesn’t seem to have to pay for anything himself other than gas and food, he’s getting Cs and Bs in his classes and doesn’t seem to care at all, and most nights he’s out late and comes barging in while Michael is either studying or trying to get as much sleep as he can before the next day of work begins. He’s exhausted, but he hardly notices.  
He functions like he always has, but now without anyone to nag him and with a heavier work load.

[…]

The first time he goes to a party it’s because Nick wouldn’t stop saying how he needed a wing-man - despite how they weren’t even friends really - and Michael had spoken to Lincoln on the phone earlier that day, who took the chance to remind him to take a break every once in a while.  
Pretty quickly on a girl links her arm through his and drags him over to a couch.  
He’s surprised that he enjoys himself.  
She’s a nice girl, but clearly not happy with how he doesn’t touch her as much as she touches him.  It’s just not in his comfort zone, and he doesn’t know what was acceptable anyway.  
Michael had a girlfriend for three weeks when he was in high school, and he never set foot in a party before.  The rules were up in the air for him.  
Still, he manages to have a good time. He had two drinks throughout the night, doesn’t stay obscenely late, and mostly just talks. He refused to dance, despite the invites. He does go home with a number though- well, not home, but his dorm room. As it turns out, while being friendless and quiet in high school made him that weird kid in the back you probably didn’t notice, in college it made him mysterious and made people want to get him to open up.  Funny how that works.

[…]

Michael is back to his usual system the next day.  
Nick whines about how Michael completely left him on his own after he got him to the party in the first place - not that it was invitation exclusive - and, in all honesty, until he mentioned the number, Michael had forgotten about it.  
The problem, aside from his lack of free time, is that he doesn’t really want to see anyone.  Michael was used to being alone.  It was just himself.  Himself and Lincoln. And he and Lincoln…  
Relationships weren’t on Michael’s college checklist.  
He calls Linc instead.  
The conversation is both comfortable and awkward at the same time.

[…]

“You need to think about yourself every once in a while.”  Lincoln says with a light tone and an avoidance of Michael’s eyes that tells him he’s genuinely worried despite how he’s trying to come across.  
Michael smiles and shakes his head like Lincoln was ridiculous.

He had a point, probably.  Michael’s life revolved around work even when he had the free time to do something else.  He felt better reading text books and making flashcards than he did trying to socialize.  At least this way he was being productive, and when he wasn’t busying himself then he was trying to catch up the sleep that he steadily loses every week or two.  
So, yes, he is tired, and Lincoln had a point, but Michael isn’t keen on seeing that look on his face or overstaying his welcome.  
“Trying to get me to stay the night, Linc?”  He teases, turning his attention back to his notes.  
They don’t address the issue.  Much like how they hardly addressed their relationship when it was going on.  Or how they hardly talked about any other problems in their lives.  If either made it apparent something needed to be said that was one thing, but typically Michael kept his problems to himself and Lincoln either did the same or tried to drink them away.  It’s how they worked, both equally emotionally stunted.

Michael politely refuses to stay the night.  He does stay for dinner, despite Lincoln pointing out how he’d get more rest if he stuck around instead of driving back to the dorms afterwards.  Michael is pretty sure that it’s the only way he’ll get any sleep at all, but he doesn’t say so.  He says he’ll be paranoid about oversleeping here if he stays and would just feel better sleeping on campus when he has things to do the next day.  Lincoln can’t argue that, and probably doesn’t want to show too much concern by doing so anyway.

“I went to a party night before last.”  Michael says in a silent moment during dinner.  
“Yeah?  About time you got wasted.”  Lincoln snorts, a grin pulling at his lips.  
“Ah but I didn’t.  I went, I had a few drinks and socialized, nothing to recover from in the morning.”  He doesn’t have to look up to know his brother is rolling his eyes. “You do anything normal up there?”  
“I had fun.  Got a girl’s number.”  
And there’s that silence again.  The kind that says, no matter in what way, that Lincoln would have a different reaction if they didn’t call things off when Michael left. “Gonna call her?”  
He shrugs.

[…]

Kissing a smoker is similar to what Michael assumed licking an ashtray would be like.  Cigarette smoke gets into a person’s hair and clothes, he’s not sure why he didn’t expect it to effect the taste of her on his lips. He also hadn’t really intended for things to go this way at all.  
They had coffee, they talked about books, and she wanted to see his shelfs.  Michael hadn’t realized that was code.  But still, she was pretty nice, and pretty, and she had a good sense of humor, a sarcastic attitude.  She was cool.  
So, Michael thinks he doesn’t mind the course the day has gone down.

“Are you always this careful?”  She asks with a smirk in her voice, breath ghosting over his lips.  Michael only hums in response.  
There’s an unpleasant sort of twisting in his gut telling him that this is wrong.  His mind protests that it can’t be.  
Sleeping with his brother, that was wrong. This is normal.  
“I can’t do this.”  He sighs, curling his hands into fists as he pulls away from her.  There’s a pause, and then she’s rolling her eyes.

“Are you a virgin, Michael?”  
He blinks, laughing a breathy little laugh.  “Uh, no.”  
“Bad break up?”  
A deep breath and his smile weakens.  “Bingo.” She pushes his shoulder and he has to shove his hands back behind himself to keep upright.  “You’re not going to get over it moping around.”  She says, swinging a leg over him to straddle his lap.  “Breakups are a process,”  He opens his mouth to protest somehow, holds up a hand in an attempt to ask her to stop, but then she’s cupping him through his jeans and his breath is caught in his throat at the sudden contact.  “I’ve been through enough to know what I’m talking about.”  She says matter-of-factly.  “I’ll help you through it.”

[…]

Guilt creeps up on him quickly afterwards.  
He feels like he’s cheating, and he’s sick with the thought.

Lincoln said when he left that he was going to try things again with Vee.  Even if that isn’t happening it’s more than likely he’s already had a few rebounds.  It’s not like Linc ever had trouble getting women.  
This is the first time someone besides his own brother has shown real interest in Michael, and she was right, he can’t just mope around and burry his head in nothing but work for four years hoping that he’ll get to move on.  
So he gets coffee with her before he goes to work the next day as well.  Afterwards she brings her books to his room and they study- actually study together.  It’s mostly silent; Michael has always done his work alone, he doesn’t know how conversation would fit into his system.  As it turns out, Anna has no intentions of testing that. It’s comfortable.

[…]

Anna tries to take him out one weekend.  Michael insists that he has to go home and see his brother.  She gives him a look that he can’t quite decipher but lets it go. Staying at Lincoln’s was a bad idea.

[…]

The next time he hears of a party, Michael doesn’t hesitate.  He needs anything outside of his normal.  
He doesn’t go with Anna, but they see each other there.  She sees the difference in his attitude, asks what’s wrong.  He couldn’t say anything even if he wanted to. Michael drinks more.  He talks less.  He dances- probably not well, he thinks, but well enough for some random girl to be draping herself over him for a few songs. When he goes to get another drink after that, Anna takes his arm and drags him out with little protest.    
“You’re not much of a drinker are you, Michael?”  
He hums and shakes his head.  
“Always this quiet?”  
A brief pause. “Don’t wanna talk. Not tonight.”  
“What do you want, Michael?”

He wants to forget Lincoln. Wants to forget what they used to do, how they don’t do it anymore, how he can’t even sleep in the same home as his brother because temptation in the next room keeps him up.  
“I want to kiss you.”  
“Me or anyone but her?” He can’t even correct the pronouns of his ex. That alone might be too much of a scandal for him to deal with. In his current state though, he almost says it if she hadn’t cut him off. “It’s okay if that’s the truth. I’m here to help, remember?” He doesn’t have to look at her to know she’s smiling, warm and sweet.  
Memories of being shoved back on the bed, all initial noise caught in his throat until he relaxed into the feeling of delicate fingers wrapped around him.  
“I want you to.. to help me.” He mutters. She stops walking then, her arm around his making him do the same and suddenly Michael realizes that he had no idea where they were even going. Anna takes his hands in hers and pulls him closer. All Michael really notices in that moment is how pretty her eyes are shining in the dark. “If you’re going to have rebound sex you at least have to show a girl you want her.” She says with a playful tone of voice.  
He presses his lips to hers.

[…]

In the morning he wakes to sun creeping in through the blinds, his head pounding and mind blank.  
With a weak groan, Michael rubs at his eyes and pushes himself up with his other hand.  The first thing he notes is that he isn’t sure where his clothes are.  The second is that he isn’t even in his own room.  His heart beats a little faster.  
Blurry images come back to him of pressing a body between his and a wall, the feeling of legs tight around his waist and the taste of cigarettes.

Anna steps out of the bathroom then, nothing on her body and her hair in a towel.  Michael can feel the second his cheeks begin to turn pink.  The smile she fixes him with is knowing and pitying.  
“Definitely not a virgin, but you don’t do this much do you?”  
He swallows thickly.  He can taste his morning breath on his tongue.  “I’d been with the same person for..A few years.”  As he explains he watches her drop the towel to the floor and rake a hand through her hair.  
The next thing he knows she’s crawling from the foot of the bed up to him, pulling the blanket back as she goes.  “How about another round before breakfast?”

[…]

Anna has a habit of smoking after sex.  Just as Michael is starting to get comfortable with getting laid being a part of his weeks routine that she’s integrated into, she puts out a cigarette on his forearm and scampers out of the room before he can question her.

[…]

The next time he’s drunk he wakes up with scratches down his back and shoulders and she has finger-shaped bruises on her thighs. She smiles brighter than ever, and he feels tension slipping away when he rubs the red marks on his own skin.

[…]

Everything with Anna seems to snowball. He stops noticing it after a while.  
He goes to classes, works, studies sometimes with her and sometimes not, in between and after he sees her. They talk and tease and cuddle and read in comfortable silences that steadily feel less and less innocently peaceful like they did when this started.

Michael keeps up his grades and keeps to his schedule but suddenly his free time is spent at Anna’s beck and call. He doesn’t particularly mind.  
She stops asking what he wants because she knows him; she pouts to win him over on eating something other than salad, to coming back early from Lincoln’s or skipping a visit all together, to going to parties with her even though he isn’t confident enough to dance while sober and doesn’t want to drink- which she sometimes gets him to do anyway.  
Alcohol isn’t a good choice for him with his LLI.  It makes him act more like he’s high, seeing so much at once that he’s distracted and loopy if he doesn’t shut down or keep his eyes closed.  He hasn’t told her about that though.  He will have to eventually if this keeps up, but he’s never told a soul.  He hardly even discussed his mentality with Lincoln, and he was the one who pulled Michael out of his head when he was stuck or struggling.  Lincoln knew how to help him with kindness, gentle touches and soft reassurances that Anna has never attempted.

Most would assume it would be the opposite, but she was the rough one.  She decorates him with cigarette burns and scratches, hickies and even bruises.  She doesn’t ask for what she wants, she takes and honestly, Michael isn’t sure how he feels about it anymore.  It’s different and new and a little concerning at first but he’s used to it and used to her unpredictability.  She encourages him to be rough too, and he dumps every frustration in the back of his mind into her when she asks him to, and when she doesn’t she tells him to hold still while she has her way with him.  
He can’t say one way is more effective than the other at relieving stress.

[…]

Eventually weeks have gone by with phone calls being the most interaction he has with his brother.  
When he tells Anna that he’s spending a weekend at home she pouts.  He doesn’t relent this time, and the next thing he knows she’s on him.

Sometime while she’s rolling her hips on his lap she wraps her delicate fingers around his throat and grins.  
Mostly it cuts off blood flow to his brain, but there’s enough pressure on his windpipe that he panics on instinct.  He’s too used to this sort of thing though.  The fear stays contained inside his head and goes no farther than his hand wrapping around her wrist in a silent plea.  She shushes him, says to just focus on the rest of his body, that the dizziness makes it better.

Later, he’s afraid to get out of bed without permission.  It’s ridiculous, because he doesn’t honestly behave like a lap dog ever, but this one time… There’s a kind of dread in his stomach, similar to the first time she burned him or the first time she tied her scarf around his wrists.  He waits until she gets out of bed before he does, and even then he’s worried about what will happen if she sees him pulling his pants back up despite how he has no actual thought about what would happen.  Logically he knows she’ll just tease him and kiss his cheek when he leaves, but emotionally he’s on edge.  
He’s not sure if the relief he feels when they’re rough with each other is worth the anxiety over making her unhappy.

[…]

The next day he asks a classmate - a quiet girl who sits beside him and has never looked less than flawless and professional - to help him cover up the faint bruises on his neck. He doesn’t need Lincoln questioning him- preferably not anyone, but especially not Lincoln.  Despite the girl’s pitying looks, she doesn’t ask about it and offers to lend him concealer for the weekend, sure to point out that it wont be perfect though.  
That evening he goes home.

Something is different in the air between Michael and his brother that night.  Neither of them are willing to address it, but it’s impossible to miss.  Still, they behave mostly as they always did; dinner and television, idle chatter through most of the night about their lives, catching up on whatever could have been said when Michael skipped visits but had to be put off until now.  Overall it’s comfortable.  Michael can see the questions in Lincoln’s eyes but until his brother voices them he will pretend all is the same.

It’s not until late that things come to head. Michael spends who knows how long on the couch, staring at the ceiling and wishing for something - anything - to occupy his mind. He has to reapply makeup first thing in the morning. He doesn’t know how he feels about Anna anymore but leaving her has never crossed his mind. He questions what they do together; when they talk it’s never about the hardships of their own lives, they got together because she knew he had just gotten out of a breakup but doesn’t know that his last and only real relationship has been with not only a man but his brother, he does what she asks because he wants to see her happy, because wether it’s part of his LLI or just a part him Michael sees the little things that give away when a person is hurting or stressed or more happy than they let on and he knows she isn’t telling him the full truth either and part of him just can’t help but want to make it better.  
That part likes sitting around with her, too. Likes going out, likes staying in, just likes her company and the fact that she doesn’t ask for things, maybe even the fact that she has to know that there were visible marks left on him today.

The other part of him is exhausted. Michael started working himself silly the first day at college, he was used to being tired and occasionally underfed but with Lincoln someone cared enough to remind him to take care of himself if he seemed to not being doing so. With Lincoln he doesn’t feel tired, ever. He takes his mind off of the stress and lets it all melt away with soft caresses and warm smiles and teasing kisses. This side of Michael can’t forget about what he and Lincoln had. He misses it still. This side also questions Anna’s motives because despite his amount of empathy he was always a little bit paranoid about other people after the life he’s led. He questions why she chose him, why there’s no real emotional connection, why what they do can make him feel so good when it also makes him weary of her. Michael studies the ceiling while he questions his choices.  
Eventually, he can’t stand it. Can’t stand thinking any longer.  Can’t stand how he can’t sleep.  How he doesn’t know what was even going on with his love life anymore. He gets up, and tiptoes into Lincoln’s room.

“Linc.. You awake?”  
A pause.  “No.”  
Michael continues into the room and sits gingerly on the side of the bed.  “I need to ask you something.”  
Eyes on the floor, he feels Lincoln shifting about on the bed. “Right now?”  
He’s not sure if Linc is even looking at him but he nods anyway. “Are you seeing other people?”

The silence doesn’t last long at all, but for Michael it stretches out like hours by the time Lincoln answers him. “What do you think.” It’s a statement, not a question, and even though Michael is doing the same thing it still hurts. He still misses it, misses him too much, misses them together and misses how they could intimate without it being sexual, how they knew each other as people long before they knew each other’s bodies and all of the differences that made; how they were, regardless of their relation, completely abnormal from what Michael has felt and witnessed apart. Sex with Anna is supposed to be intimacy, but it lacks it entirely. He sees it in mannerisms of his peers that it’s normal, hears that he’s right in that theory when they confide in him, which they all do easily so long as he keeps paying attention to them and their little tells that let him know how he might want to respond. Michael has learned how to play people, and how they play each other in sex rather than conversations.  
He had both with Lincoln.

He wasn’t so very aware of it all until being without him. He misses the comfort of laying in his brother’s arms.  
“Michael.” Lincoln says, just a little louder as he sits up. He can feel the questioning eyes without looking.  
“Sorry. Just lost in thought.”  
Fingertips run over his shoulders.  
He shivers, whispering into the dark, “I miss you, Linc.”  
As Lincoln’s hand settles on him it’s still more gentle than he’s used to anymore and he has to close his eyes. “I miss you…” He repeats, only a whisper.

“We can't."

Michael doesn't recall desperation like this. Need for comfort and distraction some of his times with Anna, but she isn't Lincoln. No matter how good it is Michael's need to hide with her will never be the same kind of need he feels for his brother. In the end it's all about Lincoln, isn't it? He pretends to be normal, pretends to enjoy being scared by her, pretends she can fix him by never saying no firmly enough if he says it at all, he might even have pretended to love her when her fingers were wrapped around his throat. Because Lincoln didn't want this anymore. Didn't want him. Didn't want his body, his kisses, his sleepy murmurs of affection in the morning, didn't want him waiting up to make sure he was okay when he came home, didn't want Michael. When he left for college he ended it. He went back to Veronica, who he could have a real future with. Michael was a fantasy for a few years that could never go any farther.  
"Please.." He can't tell if his breaking resolve will resemble frustration or tears. Lincoln probably can't either.  
A hand reaches across him and gently cups his jaw. Despite the strength Lincoln had to his advantage it was less than common that he use it. Half of the time Michael had to damn near beg for it. Always so careful..

He doesn't open his eyes again. They're lips are just a breath apart one second, but don't touch. Michael turns and climbs onto Lincoln's lap, resting their foreheads together and somehow that's the last straw.

Lincoln touches him like he's made of glass. Like he's a precious thing to never be harmed.  
Clothes come off too slow for Michael's liking. Hands wander too gently over his torso. Kisses are slow and heated and desperate but Michael is even more needy than he's letting on - he thinks - and Lincoln is driving him steadily more and more insane with his pace. Michael tries to slow down and let him lead. He tries, but it's not enough. He could melt under his brother's gentle hands, but it's not enough. He isn't used to it anymore. Far from it.

His fingernails scrape over his brother's skin as he cup his jaw. Lincoln's slightly shaky inhale makes him wonder if he could be as rough with him as Michael was used to.

He tries; rocking his hips against Lincoln's urgently, biting at his lips almost hard enough to bleed, nails digging just slightly into the side of his face.  
And then Lincoln pulls away, whispering against his lips "Michael, slow down-"  
He doesn't. It feels like he couldn't even if he tried.  
Lincoln takes one of Michael's wrists in one hand and wraps his other arm around his middle and flips over on the bed. As soon as he's on his back Michael wraps his legs around his brother's waist, trying to pull him close again but Lincoln braces his arms on the bed either side of Michael and hovers above him.

"Come on, Michael, take it easy.." Lincoln's voice is low and hushed. Gentle just as his touch.  
He needs to stop thinking. Stop regretting and questioning. "Please, Linc, I--"

His brother cuts him off with a kiss, and when he pulls away Michael holds still for him. "We'll get there, just slow down."

It's not enough. Shivers run through his body at the light caresses, brief squeezes on his hips and thighs as Lincoln's calloused hands wander down his body. It scares him, somehow; the kindness and affection.  
Lincoln kisses just under his jaw, trailing down just a bit before starting to nip and bite. It's more familiar, closer to what he needs. What he thinks he needs. Michael bares his neck to ask for more.

Lincoln hums a pleased sound and pulls away, just to look at him. It always made Michael squirm more to be appraised like that. But then Lincoln asks, “Are you wearing makeup, Michael?” Sounding somewhat amused, at least. Michael doesn't reply. He forgot about the bruises. The makeup he used to cover them. If Lincoln turned on the lights he'd see more faded ones all over him, faint scratches as well. Before he can move, Lincoln's hand is on his throat, rubbing at the spot he'd been kissing. “Michael...”  
A deep breath. “Don't..”

Lincoln's hand no longer feels steady as he tries to wipe away as much as possible. Michael keeps his head back, lets him do as he please but his body is tensing by the second, aware of the fact that Lincoln can hold him here as long as he likes and he wouldn't even have to intend it.  
“Michael what...”  
He shakes his head, bringing both of his hands to take Lincoln's and maneuver it to fit over the pattern on his skin. He looks his brother in the eye, pleading for him not to ask. Lincoln looks weary, afraid maybe. Michael knows that feeling from being on that side of it. Not knowing what to do because it was never talked about and he had no warning.

He can't do that to Lincoln. But he wants the pressure on his throat, the bruises on his thighs. Anna was rough, but she was also thin and had seemingly delicate hands. God knows what Lincoln could do to him.  
He wants Lincoln to be the one to do it. He hadn't realized how much until he was on his brother's lap.

Slowly, he releases Lincoln's hand. The seconds that follow feel too long.  
And then his brother's weight is on him, strong arms are scooping him up and holding him close, and he's baffled. If anything he expected either rejection or compliance. Instead he gets a hug like Lincoln was afraid he was going to vanish.  
As he gather his bearings, Michael slowly brings his arms up to return the gesture.  
He's not sure when his eyes started stinging with tears but it eventually clicks that they did, and that Lincoln was shushing him softly, both of them with slightly shaky hands still on the other's back.  
"I missed you..."


End file.
